


Try With Me

by OfEndlessWonder



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfEndlessWonder/pseuds/OfEndlessWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My version of the dinner scene from 5x07. I wrote most of this before the episode aired, so it bears little resemblance to what actually did happen, but hopefully that's not a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try With Me

It should really be illegal for someone to wear a dress that short.

That’s Emily’s first thought, when she opens her front door to reveal Alison, and her brain sort of short-circuits for a minute because holy crap her _legs_ , and there’s a little smirk on Ali’s face that tells Emily that she knows _exactly_ what thoughts are on her mind.

“I wore this for you,” she breathes into Emily’s ear as she passes her, leaning upwards as she does and trapping Emily against the wall for a heavenly second in which she’s aware of nothing other than the scent of Ali’s perfume and the warm heat of her body before she’s gone, bouncing down the hallway and into the kitchen, and Emily can only stare after her, dumbfounded, and her traitorous eyes linger on Alison’s ass, and oh, god, she’s not going to get through this night alive.

When she follows after the blonde she’s in the kitchen, striking up an easy conversation with Emily’s Mom, and Hanna’s sat in the corner, eyes dark and brooding, and there’s still some tension between the two of them, but Emily’s _trying_ because Hanna’s her friend and she’d hate to lose her over something so stupid. She leaves Alison with her Mom and sits down next to Hanna, but the blonde barely answers any of her questions with more than one word and eventually she gives up, wandering outside and pouring herself a drink from the table her Mom’s set out in the yard.

“Starting a little early, aren’t you?” Alison’s voice calls, and when Emily turns around the blonde’s leaning in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, watching her.

“Not really,” she replies, and she watches Alison warily as she approaches her, because she’s not really sure where they stand with each other, now. “What were you talking to my Mom about?”

“Not about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Emily flushes, a little, and Alison’s soft laughter is music to her ears. “She was just asking how I was doing.”

“How _are_ you doing? After… the other night.”

“Which one? The one you and I spent together or the one where I nearly got strangled to death?” It’s the first time that Alison’s really mentioned what had happened between them up in her bedroom since the morning they’d woken up in bed together – Emily hasn’t dared bring it up, terrified that Alison regrets it. “I’m fine. Honestly. And I… I want to talk about it. The other night. Us. If you want to.”

She takes a step closer to her, looking up at Emily through her eyelashes, and there’s sincerity in her gaze but Emily still doubts her – she doubts Alison’s every action, every word, nowadays, doesn’t know what to believe.

“I… I’d like that.”

“Great. Later?”

“Okay.” Alison’s smile lights up her whole face, and she leans upwards to press a kiss to the corner of Emily’s mouth before walking away, disappearing back into the house. Her skin burns, from the pressure of Alison’s lips, and there’s a stupid smile on her face – it quickly drops when she sees Hanna in the kitchen window, expression stormy, but she writes it off, tells herself to enjoy tonight, a rare evening that she can have fun with her friends (all _four_ of them), hopefully without the threat of A looming over them all.

She sits next to Alison at dinner, and Hanna sits as far away from her as possible. She’s nearly finished eating when she feels warm pressure on her thigh – she nearly jumps, alarmed, but then out of the corner of her eye she sees the tiny smile tugging at Alison’s lips and relaxes, just a little.

She has to keep her breathing steady, as that hand starts to inch higher up her leg, and she nearly chokes when Ali’s fingers run teasingly along the hem of her dress, and oh, god, her Mom is looking at her, clearly waiting for her to answer whatever question she hasn’t heard, and she can't concentrate on anything other than Alison’s hand ghosting across her skin.

“Sorry, what?” She’s amazed that she can keep her voice steady, and when Alison’s nails dig in slightly, drag over her thigh, she has to bite down hard on her bottom lip to keep herself from moaning.

“I asked if you’d seen Paige recently.”

“Oh.” It feels all kinds of awkward, talking about her ex-girlfriend when Alison’s hand is practically underneath her dress, and by the way the blonde’s fingers dig harder into her skin she’s pretty sure that Ali doesn’t like the change of subject. “Not really.”

“That’s a shame, she was a nice girl.”

“Mhm.” It’s all she can say, as Ali’s fingers drag with purpose along the inside of her thigh, hitching her dress up as they go, and Emily’s really, really glad that her Mom decided to have this dinner outside because there’s no way they could have gotten away with this at the kitchen table.

And she probably shouldn’t be enjoying this so much – or at all – because she’s still mad at Ali, for lying and trying to leave and for everything that’s still left unsaid. She should move her leg away or push Alison’s hand off of her, but she just… can’t.

Because it feels too damn good.

It’s when Alison’s fingers dare to travel higher that they have to stop – they graze along the front of her underwear, and a nail drags over her clit and her eyes flutter closed, her fork slipping from her grip and clattering loudly onto the table, and Alison’s hand skitters away and Emily can only remember how to breathe again when Ali’s no longer touching her.

“Are you okay?” Her Mom is asking her, looking concerned, and she can only nod, not trusting herself to speak – Alison’s smirking beside her, hiding it behind her glass as she takes a sip from it, and Hanna’s eyes are flitting between the two of them, a frown on her face.

She’s corned by her friend in the kitchen when she’s clearing the plates away, the other girls all talking still, outside – when she hears footsteps behind her she assumes it’s her Mom, or Alison, and is taken aback to Hanna framed in the doorway.

“She’s going to break your heart,” is all she says, meeting Emily’s gaze, and Hanna’s eyes are tired. “And you’re going to let her.”

“We’re not… we’re not together.” She starts to wash up and Hanna comes to stand at her shoulder, towel in her hand, and starts to dry them.

“You don’t have to be together for that. I can see you falling for her again, Em. And I just… I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can look after myself,” she mutters without turning her head, but she can feel Hanna’s worried eyes on the side of her face, and she _knows_ that Hanna’s just trying to look out for her, and she _appreciates_ that, she _does_ , she just doesn’t… she doesn’t want her concern or her worry, she never asked for it, and she can make her own mistakes.

Isn’t that how people grow, anyway? They make mistakes and they learn from them and they pick up the pieces and they move on.

“I know, Em, I just… I’m here for you, okay? If you ever need to talk, or whatever. And I’m sorry, about the other day. I should never have tried to help Ali leave. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“No, you weren’t,” she sighs, her voice a little harsher than she intended – but she can't help it, because the thought of losing Ali, of having her slip through her fingers yet again is… nothing short of terrifying. “But it’s okay. And I’m sorry, too, for the things that I said to you, in your room.”

“It’s all good. I deserved it.” They share a soft smile, dishes done, and Emily is glad that they’ve patched things up – she hates fighting with any of her friends, but with Hanna is always the hardest.

Outside the party is already winding down, Aria and Spencer making plans to leave, and Hanna is quick to ask if she can grab a lift with one of them, and all of a sudden they’re gone, and Emily’s Mom is telling her and Alison to go inside, that she can clean up the rest herself, and Alison’s taking her hand and leading her inside and she’s powerless to protest as the blonde takes them up to Emily’s bedroom and all just seems so _fast._

Alison sits on the edge of the bed, and Emily curls up against the headboard, and it reminds her of the other day, after the others had left, after she’d saved Ali at her house. She’d spent the whole night awake, watching her sleep, terrified to take her eyes off of her for one moment.

“Why now?” Emily’s the first one to break the silence, asking the question that’s been on her mind all night. Ali’s still got hold of her hand, and she’s playing with the brunette’s fingers gently, looking at them instead of at her, and Emily can't tell what expression is on Alison’s face.

“Because I… I know I hurt you, when I said I wanted to leave town,” Alison answers eventually, sounding like she’s choosing her words carefully.

“You didn’t just _say_ it, Ali, you were going to _do_ it. Without even saying goodbye.” She can't help letting her irritation shine through and she snatches her hand out of Ali’s grip, because it’s hard to concentrate, when the blonde’s drawing absent patterns across the back of it, fingers whispering over her skin, and she wonders if that was the point – to distract her.

She wonders if that was the point of trying to feel her up under the table, too.

“I know,” Alison sighs, finally looking Emily in the eye, and there’s regret, there, hidden in deep blue. “And I’m sorry for that, but I… I couldn’t look you in the eye, tell you that I was leaving and be able to go through with it. I couldn’t leave you behind again.”

“But you were going to,” she replies flatly, and Alison flinches at little, at the tone of her voice. “If the thought of leaving me behind was so unbearable, then you wouldn’t have been able to book a train ticket to the other side of the country, Alison. Did you even mean any of it, the other night? Do you even care about me at all? Or are you just using me again – so you don’t feel alone, this time, instead of just for _practice_.”

She says the last word scathingly, because even now Alison’s words still haunt her dreams (her nightmares), sometimes, and she’s never forgotten them – or the stab of pain that they’d sent through her chest, the humiliation of not being able to walk away, of having to sit in that car and drive Alison home while she chattered on aimlessly, when inside her heart was breaking.

“Em, I… God.” Alison’s eyes close, and when they open again she’s blinking back tears. “I’m _sorry_. I know I can say it a thousand times and it’ll never be enough to make up for the way I treated you but I was just… I was _scared_ ,” her voice breaks, and Emily’s heart aches, and she wants desperately to reach out and touch her, to comfort her, but they _need_ to have this conversation, need to talk through it all if they ever want to have a chance at being together (and she wants that – she wants it more than she could ever put into words), so she curls her hands into fists and presses them tightly into her sides.

“Scared of what?”

“The way I felt about you.” Emily keeps her eyes trained on Alison’s face, watching for any hint of deception, because she doesn’t think she can handle believing these words as truth and then having them ripped away from her. “I _meant_ what I said the other day. Those kisses weren’t just for practice – I _wanted_ them. I wanted you. I just never knew how to… how to say it.”

“It’s pretty easy.”

“For you, maybe,” Alison laughs, but it’s bitter. “You’re so honest and loving and kind, but I’m not… I never learned to… to love -” Emily’s heart hammers in her chest, and she forces her expression not to change, “very well. I mean, look at my family – we’re a mess. _I’m_ a mess and I… I know you don’t trust me, and I can't blame you for that, but please believe me when I say that you _mean_ something to me.”

Emily doesn’t know what to believe – she’s desperate to take Ali at her word, wants to much so believe that she’s telling the truth, but she’s swimming in a sea of doubt, _drowning_ in it, and she feels like she can't tell, anymore, what’s real and what’s a lie.

“Hanna said you’d break my heart.”

“And I probably will.” Alison’s lips twist bitterly, and Emily thinks that that, at least, is the truth. “Because I’m not a good person and I know I don’t deserve you. But I’m selfish, Em, I always was and I always be, and I take what I want and right now I want _you_. You’re the only person in this town who gives a crap about me, the only one who’s always believed in me and I… I might have been too scared to say what I really felt two years ago but I’m not now.”

“I don’t know how to trust you.” She can feel her walls breaking down, though, shattered beneath the weight of Alison’s words and god, as much as she’d wanted this conversations she’s not so sure she does, anymore – because they hurt, these things that Alison’s saying, and she wants to badly to believe her, to throw herself across the short distance between them and pin Alison down and rip that _damn_ dress off her body and show her how much she wants her, but she just… she doesn’t know how. Because if this is a lie, or if it’s not and it backfires, if Alison suddenly decides that she didn’t really mean it, doesn’t really want this – she doesn’t know if she can survive it. “I don’t know how to _be_ with you.” 

“You did the other night.” There’s a heat in Alison’s eyes as she looks back at her, and Emily knows she’s remembering and she feels her own cheeks flush as some of the memories replay in her mind. “And that night meant… I wasn’t going to tell you this because I didn’t want you to think… well, I don’t really know what, but that was…. That was the first time I’ve ever _been_ with anyone like that. Ever. So if you ever… _doubt_ the way I feel about you then just… please just remember that. Because you’re _everything_ to me.”

She knows she shouldn’t do it.

She knows that it’s probably a mistake. That it’s moving too quickly and they still have so much to talk about but she just… it just sort of _happens_. One minute she’s sat against her headboard, and the next they’re both in the middle of the bed and they’re kissing, Alison’s hands tangling in up in Emily’s hair and as the blonde’s lips part for the brunette’s tongue Emily realizes that Alison’s crying and moves to pull away, the blonde keeps her in place, kissing her back with an aching sort of desperation, as though she can convey the magnitude of her feelings better with her lips than she can with words.

When they finally part, both breathless, Emily is straddling the blonde’s hips, and there are warm hands on her thighs, and Alison’s eyes are a stormy blue, dark with desire.

“This is a really bad idea,” Emily murmurs, even as she leans down to claim Alison’s lips in another searing kiss, and the blonde’s nails rake down Emily’s thighs, harder than they had before, under the table, and she moans into the blonde’s mouth. “A really bad idea.”

“The worst idea,” Alison agrees, put that doesn’t stop her hands from sliding up to grab at Emily’s ass, pulling a groan from the brunette’s throat before they’re kissing again, and it’s _definitely_ a bad idea, for Emily to fall into Alison like this, but she wants it, she _needs_ it, and they can talk about it in the morning.

If they can keep their hands to themselves, that is.

Because they definitely can’t now, and Emily’s hands are greedy as they move from cradling Alison’s face and down over her sides before moving to cup the blonde’s breasts through the material of her dress; Alison moans into the kiss, and fuck, she’s not wearing a bra and Emily is already lost, drowning in everything Alison, and if she ever had a chance of stopping this it’s lost to her now.

When their lips part Alison’s mouth is immediately moving down the column of the brunette’s neck with a confidence that hadn't been there the last time – her hands rest on Emily’s upper thighs, and the brunette’s skin is on fire beneath the touch, desperate for _more_ but too scared to ask for it, because this is still new, to both of them but _especially_ for Alison, and she doesn’t want to – can't _bear_ to – rush her into anything.

Emily’s hands fist in blonde hair when Alison’s tongue flicks across her pulse point, and she has to bite her lip to fend off a moan because her _mother_ is just downstairs and oh, god, they really shouldn’t be doing this because Emily’s not entirely sure that she can keep herself quiet if Alison carries on like this.

And she does, teeth closing around the skin where Emily’s neck meets her shoulder, hard enough to make sure the brunette feels it but not enough to leave her mark; it has Emily’s hands tightening in the blonde’s hair, her hips bucking forward, Alison’s hands sliding further up her thighs until her thumbs brush against the sides of Emily’s underwear with every heaving breath that she takes.

“Are you okay?” The blonde murmurs, breath ghosting across the skin of Emily’s collarbone. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” Emily breathes back, her eyes closed, hands still holding Alison’s head close, and she can feel her legs shaking beneath Alison’s hands, wills it to stop. “I just… it feels good.” Really, _really_ good.

“What does?” Alison asks, an innocent, teasing tone to her voice that would usually make Emily tense up, ready for some cutting words to come her way – but there’s a huskier, deeper tone to it that has her frozen in place. “This?”

Her hands inch higher, and Emily’s breath catches in her throat in anticipation as they hover a few inches above her skin – and then the blonde’s thumbs run with deliberate pressure along the length of her sex through her underwear in a way that has a strangled noise escaping from her throat.

“Or this?” Alison’s teeth run over the flesh of her shoulder once more, biting down even harder than before, and it has the brunette’s eyes rolling back, hands pulling at Alison’s hair hard enough for her to hear a groan against her skin.

“ _Fuck_.” Alison’s quiet laughter rings in her ears, but it’s not mocking – it’s breathless, and when her head lifts so she can kiss Emily once more, tongue slipping past the brunette’s lips and stroking along hers, it’s with a possessiveness that assuages any of the doubts that still linger in the back of Emily’s mind.

Because this doesn’t _have_ to happen, and Alison is in control of this, _complete_ control, and it’s Alison who’s kissing her as though her life depends on it, whose hands leave the brunette’s thighs only to move to her breasts, sliding easily beneath the material of Emily’s dress and bra, fingers tugging at her nipples in a way that has Emily a quivering mess, moans quieted only by Alison’s mouth, still pressed hard against her own.

When their lips part the blonde takes Emily’s bottom lip between her teeth and bites down gently, and it’s such a marked change from the other night – where Alison had been uncertain, content to let Emily take the lead – that she wonders what’s different now, but she can't quite bring herself to form the words as Alison’s head dips down to tug a nipple between her teeth, teasing the tip with her tongue.

Then there are hands dipping back beneath the hem of her dress, and Alison peels Emily’s underwear down her legs just enough for her to slip one hand in-between the brunette’s legs. “Do you want me to stop?” Alison asks, pulling away from the brunette’s chest to glance up at her through her lashes, suddenly seeming shy – Emily realizes, through the haze her mind has become as a result of Alison’s hands all over her, that the blonde’s mistaken the low hiss that had slipped through Emily’s lips as a bad sign, rather than one of encouragement.

“God, no,” she groans, and she feels Alison’s chuckle against the skin of her neck, and then there are two fingers sliding through her sex, and her mind goes blank, and all she can think about is trying to keep herself quiet because all she wants to do is scream because _fuck_ it feels amazing.

“Tell me if I do anything wrong.” Emily can only nod, her hands finding purchase on the blonde’s shoulders, trying to keep herself grounded. “Or if there’s something you want me _to_ do.” Alison’s breath is hot against the brunette’s ear, voice husky, and Emily really doesn’t know how to deal with this all-confident sex goddess Alison DiLaurentis – she’s not sure if she’ll survive the night.

When the blonde’s fingers slip easily inside of her hips can't help grinding downwards, pressing her deeper, and she hears Alison’s sharp intake of breath somewhere against her collarbone, and she tugs the blonde’s head back up to hers to kiss her again, because she never could get enough of Alison’s lips, and there’s such an _intimacy_ to it now, like this, that she can’t resist it.

Emily’s hips rock against Ali’s hand as the blonde starts to thrust into her, and Alison’s other hand wraps around the brunette’s left hipbone, steadying her as her fingers curl, and Emily’s nails dig half-moons into the bare skin of Alison’s shoulders, and she’s already close, because even the barest of touches from the blonde is almost enough to get her off.

“Girls?” At the sound of her Mom’s voice Emily freezes, tearing her mouth away from Alison’s as her eyes snap open, staring fearfully at her closed bedroom door and she’d almost _forgotten_ that they aren’t alone in the house and her door doesn’t _lock_ and oh, god, they’re going to get found out and her Mom will never be able to look her in the eye ever again. “Are you two okay? It’s awfully quiet up there.”

Emily almost chokes on a laugh, at the absurdity of _that_ and their whole situation in general, and really, she’s just happy that her Mom’s voice sounds far enough away for Emily to discern that she’s stood at the bottom of the stairs, and they’ll have time to make themselves decent if she _does_ decide to head up and interrupt them.

“Yeah we’re fine, Mom!” She calls back, amazed that her voice is steady, and she makes to move off of the blonde’s lap but Alison’s hand, still around her hip, stops her, and when she glances back at the blonde she sees that her eyes are dark, watching Emily’s face with rapt attention – her thumb finds Emily’s clit, fingers pressing into her again and curling, and the brunette’s eyes slam shut, lips parting in a soft moan.

“You want some chocolate mousse?” Emily’s Mom is still there, just downstairs, and Emily forces her eyes to open even as her traitorous hips grind down against Alison’s hand, because this is all kinds of fucked up but Emily can tell by the look on Alison’s face that she’s enjoying this, that the thought of getting caught kind of turns her on – she reminds herself to revisit _that_ at a later date, just, y’know, maybe not when it’s their _parents_ that could catch them.

“No, Mom!” Her voice is a little strained, because Ali’s moving more quickly, and her hand is angled so that her palm skates across her clit with every thrust and she’s so, so close and she just needs to make sure that her Mom is nowhere in hearing distance when she comes. “We’re fine!”

“Alright, alright,” she hears, distantly, and she can feel that telltale tightening in the pit of her stomach – it’s a relief when she hears the kitchen door slam and she lets go, coming undone around Alison’s fingers, and she’s eternally grateful when the blonde’s mouth slants upwards against hers, lips smothering the sound of the moans that tumble from her lips because _god_ that might just have been the best orgasm of her entire life.

She sort of collapses against the blonde when she’s stopped shaking, her forehead resting on Alison’s shoulder, the blonde’s arms wrapped around her back, holding her close as she tries to catch her breath and get her pounding heartbeat back under control.

“When did you get so good at this?” She asks, eventually, when she’s remembered how to breathe properly again, her mouth moving against Alison’s skin as she speaks, and she feels the blonde shudder beneath the touch. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the other night was amazing but that was… something else.”

“I may have… looked into it.” Alison’s answer surprises her, and she lifts her head, arching an eyebrow and noting the way that the blonde can barely look her in the eye.

“What? You don’t mean like… _porn_ , do you?”

“ _No_! There is such a thing as Google, you know.” There’s a flush colouring Alison’s cheeks, and Emily would laugh if she didn’t think it would make Alison pull away.

“You Googled how to have sex with a girl? You really do have to make sure you’re the best at everything, don’t you?”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.” The blonde finally dares to look her in the eye, a challenge in her gaze, and Emily knows she’s said the wrong thing – her hands move to cup the side of the blonde’s face before she has the chance to put up those walls that Emily so despised, the ones that always came up whenever Alison felt threatened, or scared, and didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I was just joking.” She brushes a chaste kiss against the blonde’s lips, but when she pulls away Alison drags her closer, hips shifting between Emily’s knees in a way that’s enough to remind her that while she feels sated, the blonde probably _doesn’t_.

“Where are you going?” Alison asks, vulnerability painted across her features (she hadn't been kidding when she’d told Hanna that Alison was being really needy; she’d just neglected to say that she actually kind of enjoyed it), as Emily clambers to her feet – none too gracefully because her knees have locked from being in the same position for so long, and she nearly ends up on the floor on her ass.

“You’ll see,” she replies enigmatically, kicking off her heels because wow are her feet _killing_ her, before she sinks to her knees in-front of the bed because there is one thing that she has yet to do with Alison DiLaurentis, one thing that she’s always thought about but never had the chance to do.

Until now.

If Ali wants it, anyway.

“What are you doing?” The blonde questions, blue eyes staring down at her with confusion but Emily doesn’t answer – she just reaches for Alison’s hips to tug her a little closer to the edge of the bed, so that she’s kneeling between her legs, and presses a deliberate kiss to the inside of the blonde’s knee, hands pushing the hem of Ali’s dress further up her thighs. “Oh. _Oh_.”

“I won't,” Emily is hasty to say, her fingers drawing absent patterns over Alison’s skin. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“No, I… I just…” Gone is the confident woman from before – now she’s just a girl, a girl that Emily’s pretty sure she’s still in love with, who might just love her back (but equally might just be using her – but it doesn’t _seem_ like that, not when Alison’s looking at her with those wide baby blue eyes, looking so freaking _uncertain_ ). “I’ve never…”

“I know.” Her cheeks rests against the spot she’s just kissed, and she can feel Alison’s leg shaking against the side of her head, and the blonde’s hands are running lightly through her hair. “And you don’t have to.”

She leans up to kiss her again, and because the skirt of the blonde’s dress is bunched up around her waist she can _feel_ how wet she is, even through her underwear and even through Emily’s dress, and she _aches_ to touch her, but she won't – at least not until Alison asks her too, not until she relaxes, because Emily can feel how tense she is, coiled up like a spring, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice, and the _last_ thing she wants to do is ruin this by trying to rush anything.

“I want you to,” Alison breathes, voice husky, when their lips part and her eyes are bright as they meet brown. “ _Please_.”

“Okay,” Emily murmurs, barely even able to believe now that this is actually a thing that’s happening, but her fingers curl around the sides of Alison’s underwear anyway, dragging them down her thighs, eyes never leaving the blonde’s because she just _needs_ to make sure that she wants this as much as Emily does.

But there’s no trace of doubt on Alison’s face as she steps delicately out of her underwear, and Emily throws the strip of black lace away somewhere behind them, not really caring where it ends up. Her hands run along the inside of the blonde’s thighs, much like Alison had done to her earlier, and she watches the way that the blonde’s eyes flutter closed and her lips part, completely enraptured.

When her fingers skate across a raised patch of skin she can't stop her eyes from flickering down – and it’s only then that she sees the jagged scar marring the skin of the blonde’s upper thigh, and she sucks in a harsh breath because that looks like it _hurt_.

“What happened?”

“I… I’d rather not talk about it.” Emily hates the distant, guarded look that crosses Alison’s face when her eyes flicker open and she sees what the brunette’s looking at, and it’s _frustrating_ to know that even like this, half-naked and with Emily between her legs, that Alison _still_ keeps things from her.

“Yeah? Well I _do_ want to talk about it.” She hates the fact that she sounds upset, that she’s so _easily_ upset, and she hears Alison’s sigh and can't figure out if it’s one of sadness or frustration and she hates that can't read the blonde well, too.

“Emily…” Alison’s hands are still in her hair, but they move to the side of her face, a thumb brushing lightly across her cheek. “It’s not… _important_.”

“It _is_!” Emily insists, because it doesn’t look like an accidental scar, it looks like she was _stabbed_ or something and that’s not… what the hell _happened_ to her while she was hiding out? What kind of things had Emily not been able to protect her from?

“It’s not,” Alison replies, pleadingly. “I… I will tell you, okay? But not… not tonight. Not like this. Please. I need you.”

She wants to argue.

She wants to say that _no_ , she needs to know _now_ , and while she’s at it, Alison can tell her every other thing that she’s been keeping from her, too, because shit, how could she be this intimate with someone that, some days, she felt like she barely knew at all?

But she’s always been weak when it comes to Alison, and as much as she hates it, she wants _Alison_ more than she wants answers, in that moment. And it doesn’t mean that she’ll _never_ get her answers – because she will, she vows it, she _needs_ them, needs to know what the hell she’s getting herself into, with this woman who’s everything she’s ever wanted and everything she’d always told herself that she could never have.

So she pushes down her doubts, her questions, and tells herself that Alison will talk to her when she’s ready, when she _wants_ to, and it’s pointless trying to force the issue – not when they’re like this, not when she can remember the feeling of Alison inside of her, all around her, not when the blonde’s legs are wrapped around her, hands holding her so delicately, eyes looking down at her, pleading with her to let it go, just for now.

And maybe she shouldn’t, maybe they’re headed for disaster, because they keep bringing stuff up and then not talking about it, they keep losing themselves in one another instead of having an actual conversation, but it’s just… so _easy_ for Emily to do that, to fall into Alison and pretend that that’s all that matters. And that might be their undoing, one day, because it’s toxic, this thing that they’re doing, by not talking about things that they _need_ to talk about.

But she finds it hard to concentrate on that, as her hands curl around the blonde’s knees to spread her legs apart, and Alison’s hands tighten in her hair in anticipation as she dips her head down, and she pauses for a moment, reality finally sinking in, before her tongue swipes along the length of the blonde’s sex, circling around her clit lightly before repeating the motion.

She finds it hard to concentrate on _anything_ – because Alison’s leg is thrown over her shoulder, the heel of her shoe pressing down hard between Emily’s shoulder blades, teeth ensnaring her bottom lip in an effort to keep herself quiet – and she finally knows what it feels like to have Alison DiLaurentis shaking beneath her mouth, and that’s just… _everything_.


End file.
